


The Fool of My Heart

by adepressedmeme



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Anal Sex, Blood, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Jealousy, Masochism, Murder, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Slow Burn, Sweet rolls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:02:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26386858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adepressedmeme/pseuds/adepressedmeme
Summary: Cicero is the Keeper, Fool of Hearts, assassin, and jester. Most importantly, he is the Listener's. Story follows the Imperial Dovahkiin Lalailana as she works with the Dark Brotherhood. The plot focuses heavily on the slow burn and less on her actual murders and quests.  She finds herself having feelings for the crazy little man that tends their Night Mother's corpse, but doesn't really know what to do with those emotions.I have been reading some Cicero fics recently and couldn't help remember how much I loved the creepy dude. So I replayed the questline and wrote this. Please enjoy.
Relationships: Bolund/Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn, Cicero/Dovahkiin | Dragonborn, Cicero/Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn, Cicero/Listener (Elder Scrolls), Listener/Keeper
Comments: 8
Kudos: 80





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I've posted a complete work with multiple chapters at the same time. I really, really loved writing this as it is my first dedicated slow burn fic. I could see myself writing more of this pairing in the future. I really hope you enjoy it half as much as I enjoyed writing it! As always, please leave a comment to let me know what you think or if you have any writing requests!

The newest member of the Brotherhood, a young Imperial woman, was taking to her role well. Astrid had chosen wisely. She was a skilled archer but needed work with a blade. What stuck out most about her though was her name, Lalailana Lerorius. The members of the family have taken to calling her by nicknames like Lana and Ana to make things simpler. Lalailana didn’t mind it though, she enjoyed the feeling of familiarity that came with the use of nicknames. 

Lalailana had just returned from a triple contract and was on her way to collect from Nazir, when she noticed quite the scene before her. Everyone was gathered in a half circle around a man dressed as a jester with a large metal coffin beside him. 

The jester spoke to Astrid, “But the Night Mother is mother to all! It is her voice we follow! Her will! Would you dare risk disobedience? And surely... punishment?” 

“Keep talking, little man, and we'll see who gets "punished,”” Arnbjorn threatened, protective of his wife. 

“Oh, be quiet you great lumbering lapdog. The man has had a long journey. You can at least be civil. Mister Cicero, I for one am delighted you and the Night Mother have arrived. Your presence here signals a welcome return to tradition," Fetus replied. 

Cicero commented, "Oh, what a kind and wise wizard you are. Sure to earn our Lady's favor."

"You and the Night Mother are of course welcome here, Cicero. And you will be afforded the respect deserving of your position as Keeper. Understood... husband?" Astrid scolded. 

"Oh, yes yes yes! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Cicero jumped up and clicked his heels together, making Lalailana giggle. The jester’s eyes snapped up at her upon hearing her laughter. 

Astrid continued, "But make no mistake. I am the leader of this Sanctuary. My word is law. Are we clear on that point?"

"Oh yes, mistress. Perfectly! You're the boss," Cicero threw his hands up defensively, but the look Lalailana saw in his eyes said otherwise. 

The crowd cleared out to continue with their work as Astrid made her way toward her planning table and toward the Imperial woman, “Watch yourself around that one, I have a strange feeling about him.” 

“He seems a bit...strange,” Lalailana replied, nodding her head. 

“He’s downright insane,” Astrid sighed, heading back up the stairs. 

Lalailana moved toward the funny looking man. The smile he gave her was off and made her feel a bit uneasy, but his face was pleasant to look at. It was clear he was an Imperial like her, which gave her some comfort. After some bad personal experiences with Nord men, it was comforting that this new family member wasn’t one. 

The jester spoke first, “Another member of the Family! Hello, hello. So very good to meet you! I see you find poor Cicero amusing!” 

“It's good to meet you too, Cicero,” She offered him an honest smile. 

“So polite! So nice! Cicero likes you. The Night Mother is sure to like you too. Oh, we're going to be fast friends. Fast friends,” he rambled and gave a short dance as he spoke. 

Lalailana couldn’t help but laugh again, which made Cicero feel warm and happy. It was similar to the feelings he got when oiling Mother. Few people laughed at Cicero’s eccentric behavior, but Lalailana appreciated it as Skyrim was often a serious place. Not to mention her life was built around murdering. 

“Cicero is glad to amuse you!” He commented at the sounds from her mouth. 

“Why don’t you tell me a bit about yourself?” She asked. 

“Me? Oh, Cicero is just the Keeper! I... keep! I look after our matron, you see. The Night Mother. I keep her clean, and protected, and happy... But I am not the Listener. Oh no. There is no Listener. Not yet! But some day, some day, some day I pray, that one will come to hear her say... The words,” his eyes took a far away look at his last words. 

“I take it the Listener...listens?” She questioned. 

“Surely you jest,” he answered and she gave him a raised brow, “Oh you are serious. Yes! The Night Mother will only speak to the Listener. Not with her lips as they are...rotted...but in their mind. Poor Cicero is not the Listener, no matter how hard he tries to hear. No, the Mother has not spoken to anyone in years.” 

“That’s too bad,” Lalailana replied, “You seem like you’d be good for the job, given how devoted you seem to her.” 

“You flatter Cicero!” He clapped his hands, “No, Cicero is not worthy to be the Listener.” 

Lalailana tilted her head, “So what brings you to our sanctuary?” 

“The Night Mother's crypt in Bravil was... desecrated. The Imperial Province is ravaged by strife. Nowhere there is safe, at present. So Cicero brought our Lady to her new home. Here! This is the only Sanctuary left in all of Skyrim, you see. Such was my... honor. As Keeper,” Cicero explained. 

“Surely you must be tired from the journey,” she responded, “Could I help you get settled? Do you need anything?” 

“Cicero thanks you,” he announced, “Cicero is hungry. Oh! But Cicero has poor manners, for he has not asked you your name.” 

“Lalailana,” she extended a hand to shake his, “A pleasure to meet you Cicero.” 

“Lala-lalailalana,” He struggled to pronounce her name. 

“It’s okay,” she offered him another smile, “You can call me whatever you like.” 

“Lala!” He cheered, “Cicero shall call you Lala, Hehehe. Jesters like Cicero like a funny name!” 

“I believe it,” Lalailana replied, “Why don’t you follow me and I can show you where to get something to eat?” 

“Cicero thanks you!” He followed close behind her. 

She led him to the room that kept their provisions with a long table in it. It was rare for the family to eat together, but should it ever happen it could hold them all. Cicero grabbed a sweet roll off the table and licked at the icing. Lalailana couldn’t help but notice how well his tongue curled around the pastry. She knew it must have been way too long since she last had sex if she was getting turned on by a fucking clown. 

“If you need me for anything, feel free to grab me. I’m still new here, so I understand how difficult it can be to get your bearings here,” She spoke. 

“You are too kind to poor Cicero,” he replied with some crumbs falling from his lips, “Cicero will be fine.” 

She nodded and headed up the stairs to find Nazir. He paid her well, giving her some small praise for getting the contracts dealt with so quickly. When asked, he told her there were no more available at the moment. Not having really felt like heading back out yet anyways, Lalailana headed to her bed. She stored the money and some items she took off her contracts in her locked chest. The Dark Brotherhood was not known for thievery, but she knew better than to just leave valuables laying about. Checking to make sure she was alone in the room, she stripped out of her shrouded armor to her small clothes. She didn’t hear the sneaky jester entering the room as she slipped on a loose tunic and some leather leggings. Cicero knew he should have looked away and given her privacy, but it had been so long since he saw a naked body that wasn’t his own or the Night Mother’s. He couldn’t help but watch her a moment, before making his presence known once she was clothed. 

“Oh!” She turned around sharply at the sound of him clearing his throat, “Need something?” 

“Cicero needs a hand moving the Night Mother to her room,” he replied, ignoring that the space in his trousers had shrunken. 

“Of course,” she followed him to her coffin. 

In truth, he needed more than just her help. Arnbjorn begrudgingly aided the two to bring the Night Mother to the highest room in the sanctuary. Cicero was granted his own room too, right next to the Mother. It was small and Lalailana didn’t even know it existed. Cicero thanked the werewolf but he just huffed and walked out, warning ‘tidbit’ to be careful around Cicero. 

“The sheepdog does not like poor Cicero,” he sounded disappointed, “What did poor Cicero do?” 

Lalailana put a comforting hand on his shoulder, “Don’t take it to heart. He’s like that with everyone except his wife.” 

Cicero was shocked by the touch, the first time he’s been touched in such a way in many years. He didn’t speak this time, simply nodding his head with a smile. Cicero hoped that, if the Night Mother would not speak with him that she would speak to this woman. She was kind to him and he thinks their Lady would like her. 

“Anything else you need?” She offered before heading out. 

Yes. “No,” he lied, “Cicero thanks Lala again!” 

Cicero wanted her to touch him again. To keep touching him. Oh how he craved to be touched. Years of solitude had driven him mad, he knew, but he was still a man. A man that had wants and needs. Wants and needs that had been neglected in his care for the Night Mother. Not that he regrets it! No, Cicero is honored to serve his Night Mother. He just wishes that he had more time for...other things. More base things. 

Lalailana sat at the wooden table to enjoy the seared slaughterfish on her plate. She had neglected to eat on her way back to the Sanctuary and her growling stomach reminded her of her error. Nazir joined her, telling her his disdain for Cicero. Lalailana was confused on how anyone could hate him already, given he had just shown up. She secretly hoped that no one in the family had felt the same about her too. 

“I don't like mimes, minstrels, thespians, acrobats, jugglers, troubadours or tumblers. Flutists give me a headache. I particularly hate jesters. As a rule, I'm also not crazy about the corpses of old women. For the Night Mother, I'll make an exception. But Astrid is the only mistress I serve,” Nazir continued speaking. 

“I’ll be sure never to play my lute around you then,” Lalailana joked, “Unless, I guess, I’m trying to piss you off.” 

“That is one way to do it,” he grumbled, “What do you think of this Cicero?” 

“Well…” Lalailana considered the question, unaware that Cicero was within earshot, “I do find him humorous. Unlike you, I can appreciate a good joke,” Nazir rolled his eyes, “But I also find him..sad? In a way. He has spent a lot of time alone with just the Night Mother, who will not speak to him. I couldn’t imagine devoting myself to someone who would not be willing to communicate with me.” Lalailana paused before continuing, “I kind of like him though. He seems like, once you get past the whole talking in third person thing, a good person. Or-well- as good as a murder can be.” She laughed at the last of her words. 

Cicero felt warm at her words. She liked Cicero! Cicero had a friend for the first time in a long time. He frowned at Nazir’s next words. 

“You’re too trusting,” Nazir replied, “That will fade with experience.” 

“I don’t think he would hurt me,” she defended, “He didn’t seem the type to just attack someone for no reason.” 

Nazir raised a brow, but kept his next words to himself as the jester entered the room. Lalaialana followed his gaze until she saw the man herself. She waved to him with that kind smile that he was growing to desire more of. Cicero took a seat beside her at the table and grabbed another sweet roll. 

Lalailana gave a short snort, “Do you only eat sweet rolls?” 

“Cicero loves sweet roll,” he replied, “Why wouldn’t he eat them?” 

“Surely that’s not the only thing you’ve eaten since you got here?” She questioned. Nazir watched the exchange curiously. 

“Cicero would rather not answer,” he looked away from her, “What does Lala think Cicero should eat?” 

“Lala?” Nazir couldn’t resist. 

She laughed a bit, “It seems he struggles with my name like everyone else here. Why not try something healthy like…” She looked around the table before grabbing an apple, “An apple? Balance out that sugar.” 

“Cicero shall eat this apple,” he grabbed it from her and bit into it. 

“Glad to help,” Lalailana replied and returned to her meal. 

Cicero began to tell the two assassins some stories of his time working contracts in Cheydinhal. Nazir seemed annoyed as they were all unsolicited, but Lalailana found it fascinating. She wasn’t one to brag about her kills, but she enjoyed hearing about others. 

“Would Nazir like to share with Cicero some stories of his contracts?” He asked the Redguard. 

“Absolutely not,” he stood up from the table and headed to his room, clearly annoyed. 

“Did Cicero say something wrong?” He asked her. 

“Not at all,” she assured him, “If you want to keep talking, I’ll listen.” 

“Cicero has spoken enough,” he laughed, “Cicero would like to hear of Lala’s adventures.” 

“Mine?” She paused, “I don’t think I have much to share.” 

“Maybe your last contract?” He offered. 

“Uh,” in truth, Lalailana didn’t like thinking about the people she killed, “I’d rather not.” Cicero frowned at her and, for some reason, she felt bad for denying him. “I could tell you a little about my childhood, if you’re interested.” 

“Oh yes!” Cicero shook his head up and down, “Cicero is no listener, but he will listen.” He laughed at his own joke and Lalailana followed suit. It wasn’t hard to make her laugh. 

She began to explain to him a little about her family. How she lived in Cyrodiil as a child and dreamed of being a bard. That changed though, when her parents were murdered. She came to Skyrim with a distant relative, who made her work as a farmer and didn’t support the idea of her going to the Bard’s College. When she was older, the people responsible for her parent’s murder happened by their homestead. She explained to him that they were her first kill. Lalailana had no experience with fighting or murder, but she was an avid hunter. She used those tracking skills she learned to find their camp and took them out at a distance with her bow. From there, she decided to leave that farm. Astrid had found her after she killed a horrible old woman who abused orphans in Riften. Now she was here with her new family and the rest is history. 

Cicero listened intently on each and every word. He liked hearing her talk. The Night Mother never spoke to him, but Lala would. Sweet Lala. Kind Lala. She was a killer, yes, but there was more to her. She wasn’t like that pretender Astrid or that grumpy Redguard Nazir. Cicero didn’t know much else about the other members of the family, but he didn’t care anymore. Lala would speak with him and listen to him and that was enough for poor Cicero. 

Lalailana let out a yawn as she stretched in her seat. Cicero noticed how her tunic rose enough to expose some of the skin of her stomach. He wondered what it would feel like if he oiled it. Not like the Night Mother’s dry skin for sure. Something surely soft. He nearly reached out to touch her, but no. Cicero knew that she would not like that. Cicero knew that someone as beautiful as Lala would not want to lower herself to be touched in such a way by lowly Cicero. 

“Well,” her lids were heavy, “I think it’s time for me to go to bed. Good night Cicero.” 

“Goodnight Lala,” he replied with a wave as she left. Cicero knew that tonight would be another lonely one with just his hand to keep him company, oh and the ever silent Night Mother of course.


	2. Chapter 2

“Lana,” Astrid called her from her archery practice on the straw dummy by the water. 

Lalailana approached her, “Yes?” 

“I need you to do a task for me,” she started, “It’s Cicero. He's taken to locking himself in the Night Mother's chamber, and talking. To someone. In hushed, but frantic tones. Who is he speaking with? What are they planning? I fear treachery.” 

“Well he is mad,” Lalailana brushed off her paranoia, “He’s probably speaking to himself or the Mother.” 

“No, there is foul play here. As the Night Mother's Keeper, he believes he's entitled to the rule of this Sanctuary. Cicero will cite our independence as the need to revert to the Old Ways. He'll claim we're undisciplined, unruly. Heretical, even. Ironically, the Night Mother could prove to be just as much a victim. The queen in a fool's twisted game of chess,” Astird explained, “Dear sister, I need you to steal into that chamber, and eavesdrop on their meeting. It'll be no use clinging to the shadows. They'll see you for sure. No, you need a hiding place. Somewhere they'd never think to look. Like inside the Night Mother's coffin.” 

“If this is really what you want, I will do it. If nothing else but to put your mind at ease,” Lalailana replied, “I don’t think Cicero is capable of coming up with some grand scheme.” 

“Never underestimate a member of the Brotherhood Lana,” she scolded, “Make haste before he returns.” 

Doing as instructed, Lalailana climbed into the coffin with the Night Mother. She held back the bile that rose to the back of her throat as she felt herself press into the corpse. Cicero’s humming could be heard as the room door closed. She could feel her heart beating out of her chest, scared of getting caught. She trusted Cicero well enough, but Astrid was the boss so she would carry out her will. 

“Are we alone? Yes... yes... alone. Sweet solitude. No one will hear us, disturb us. Everything is going according to plan. The others... I've spoken to them. And they're coming around, I know it. The wizard, Festus Krex... perhaps even the Argonian, and the un-child... What about you? Have you... have you spoken to anyone? No.... No, of course not. I do the talking, the stalking, the seeing and saying! And what do you do? Nothing! Not... not that I'm angry! No, never! Cicero understands. Heh. Cicero always understands! And obeys! You will talk when you're ready, won't you? Won't you... ...sweet Night Mother,” Cicero began to monologue. 

“Poor Cicero. Dear Cicero. Such a humble servant. But he will never hear my voice. For he is not the Listener,” a woman’s voice rang in Lalailana’s head. She jumped, startled. She prayed that it was her imagination and that Cicero didn’t hear anything. 

“Oh, but how can I defend you? How can I exert your will? If you will not speak? To anyone!" Cicero shouted. 

“Oh, but I will speak. I will speak to you. For you are the one. Yes, you. You, who shares my iron tomb, who warms my ancient bones. I give you this task - journey to Volunruud. Speak with Amaund Motierre. Tell Cicero the time has come. Tell him the words he has been waiting for, all these years: 'Darkness rises when silence dies,’” The Night Mother spoke again. 

This time Lalailana couldn’t stop herself, busting out of the coffin in surprise and fear of the voice. Cicero’s eyes grew wide as Lalailana tried to steady her breathing. Her head ached like a knife plunged through it. She felt violated. 

“What? What treachery! Defiler! Debaser and defiler! You have violated the sanctity of the Night Mother's tomb! Explain yourself! Speak, worm!” Cicero pulled out his ebony dagger and pointed it at her. He didn’t want to believe that the only woman who had shown him kindness in all these years would turn out to be so lowly as to defile his Mother. 

“Wait!” She held her hands up to him. She pleaded, “She-She spoke to me!” 

“She... spoke to you? More treachery! More trickery and deceit! You lie! The Night Mother speaks only to the Listener! And there is... no... Listener!" He advanced on her with his blade at her throat. He pressed it in enough to draw blood. 

Lalailana was terrified of the man and he could see it in her eyes. His heart hurt at the look for some reason he didn’t understand. “Darkness rises when silence dies!” The words tumbled out of her mouth, “Darkness rises when silence dies! Darkness rises when silence dies!” She shouted quickly and prayed that he wouldn’t kill her. 

“Wait-those are the words. The Binding Words. Written in the Keeping Tomes. The signal so I would know. Mother's only way of talking to sweet Cicero…” He put his knife away and began to dance joyfully as though he didn’t just almost kill her, “Then... it is true! She is back! Our Lady is back! She has chosen a Listener! She has chosen you! Ha ha ha! All hail the Listener!” 

Astrid burst into the room, “By Sithis, this ends now! Back away, fool! Whatever you've been planning is over! Are you all right? I heard the commotion. Who was Cicero talking to? Where's the accomplice? Reveal yourself, traitor!” 

Lalailana didn’t answer, her hand on her neck where she bled from. She had heard that your life flashes before your eyes before you die, but she didn’t believe it until today. Never had she been put in a position where she was so helpless. 

“I spoke only to the Night Mother! I spoke to the Night Mother, but she didn't speak to me. Oh no. She spoke only to her! To the Listener!” Cicero kept up his dancing, his back to her where he didn’t see that Lalailana was petrified. 

“What? The Listener? What are you going on about? What is this lunacy?” Astrid questioned, angry as she moved to the Imperial woman still on the ground with blood leaking from her hand. 

“It's true, it's true! The Night Mother has spoken! The silence has been broken! The Listener has been- chosen…” His cheery, gleeful tone shifted to a somber one. He had finally saw his Listener frozen to the ground, bloody. He felt himself begin to panic. She was the Listener and he almost killed her.

“Lana, are you okay?” She shook her head slightly to affirm that she was fine. “Then what in Sithis' name is going on? Cicero spoke to the Night Mother, but she spoke to you? Is this just more of the fool's rambling?” 

“Yes,” she spoke in a softer than normal voice, “to all of it.” 

“What? So Cicero wasn't talking to anyone else. Just... the Night Mother's body? And the Night Mother, who, according to everything we know, will only speak to the person chosen as Listener... just spoke. Right now...to you?” Lalailana shook her head again and slowly explained what the Night Mother had told her. “Listen, I don't know what's going on here, but you take your orders from me. Are we clear on that? The Night Mother may have spoken to you, but I am still the leader of this Family. I will not have my authority so easily dismissed. I... I need time to think about all this. Go see Nazir - do some work for him. I'll find you when I'm ready to discuss the matter further. Go have that wound attended to first though.” With that she left the room. 

Cicero moved to touch the Listener, but she flinched back from him. Cicero was hurt. Cicero would never hurt his Listener, not if he had known. He was just angry. It looked to Cicero that she was defiling Mother and Cicero couldn’t let someone like that live. Cicero had been too quick to act and now his Listener would not be near him. 

“Cicero is sorry Listener,” he began to speak to her, “Cicero would have not attacked you if he had known sooner. The Keeper would never harm the Listener!” 

“Stay away from me,” she hissed as she stood on wobbly legs. 

“Let Cicero help! Yes! Cicero will make up for-” 

“Stay away!” She shouted, heading out of the room to get to her healing potions. 

“Stupid Cicero has made a mistake dear Mother,” he turned to her tomb, “What ever will Cicero do? The Keeper needs his Listener.” 

… 

Lalailana took in a deep breath and released it as she let her arrow fly. It struck through the side of the head of the fine dressed man before her. She was hidden in the tree line, the guards looking around but unable to see her. She could hear the screams of the people nearby that witnessed it as she rushed back to the sanctuary. She had been gone for almost two weeks, having taken three more contracts. Lalailana didn’t want to return yet though. She left as soon as she healed her neck because she wanted as much distance between her and that crazy jester as possible. To think he would turn on her so quickly after all the kindness she showed him. Now she was this ‘Listener’ too. It was too much. 

She entered her home quietly. It was strange, that a pen full of assassins would feel like home. After checking that the coast was clear of Cicero, she headed to see Nazir. He made some jokes about easy pickings and gave her the coin for her kills. Lalailana made her way to her bed, her little slice of the sanctuary. She would kill for a private room, but she made do. Changing from her Brotherhood armor back into her typical cream tunic and black leggings, she sat on the bed and undid her ponytail. Her hair fell past her shoulders down the length of her back. She needed to wash and detangle the hair. 

Cicero had seen her rushing across the common area from the window of the Night Mother’s room. She had been gone so long that he had worried something happened to her. He was relieved to see her alive, his Listener. Cicero didn’t know what he would do with himself if she had died while out alone. He wasn’t sure he would ever be able to find another Listener. He knew he needed to be out with her, to ensure she returned to their Mother safely after her contracts. Cicero knew she wouldn’t have him though, not after what he had done. 

He sighed,the smell of lavender and nightshade wafting to his room. Curious, he followed the scent. Lalailana was in a small private area where they kept their bathing supplies. She thought she had closed the door all the way, but it was slightly ajar. She was facing away from it though, scrubbing the dirt from her skin while she sat in the wash basin. She had filled it with soap, lavender oil, and nightshade petals. Cicero found his way to the room that smelt so pleasant. 

He paused as he could see inside the room through the slightly opened door. The Listener was there washing, naked. Cicero could see the side shape of her breasts as she lifted her arms above her head to scrub her long, dark locks. He could feel himself hardening, but he was ashamed. The Keeper should not be lusting at the Listener. He should be leaving her in peace, but he couldn’t help but stand there. It had just been so damn long. He palmed his erection a bit through his jester’s pants. Cicero stayed there for a few more moments before finding the strength to leave. He would speak to her later, when she was clothed and his judgement wasn’t so clouded. 

Lalailana dried herself off and put her tunic and leggings back on. The cream, wheaty top clung to the edge of her shoulders and exposed her collarbones and the top of her cleavage. The leggings clung to her curves well. She pulled her still damp hair up into a messy bun, exposing her neck to the cool air. Moving herself to find food, she stopped short at the jester walking toward her. 

“Listener!” He called to her with a manic laugh. 

“Keeper,” She replied coldly. 

“Poor Cicero is sorry for what happened,” his gaze landed on all the exposed flesh from her ear, down her neck, and to her chest. He wanted to touch the area, worship it. The skin so smooth, so flawless and vulnerable. “Cicero would like to make it up to the Listener.”

“How do you make up for trying to kill someone?” She asked sharply. 

Cicero winced at her tone but kept up his normal cheerful voice, “Cicero has...ideas.” 

Lalailana sighed heavily, “Does it involve food?” 

“It can! Cicero will go get food. The Listener will wait for him in the Night Mother’s room!” He scurried off, making a small jump to click his heels together. 

Lalailana didn’t know why she was even giving him a chance. Maybe, deep down, she could understand why he reacted the way he did. If her only company for years was a dead woman’s body, she would probably grow possessive too. She shook her head of the thoughts as she entered the Night Mother’s room. Looking around, she saw that Cicero had put in a small table with two chairs. The room had candles in it now, a few of them lit. Some deadly flowers were there too, nightshades and deathbells. She could see Cicero’s room from where she stood. He had more books then she would expect. 

“Cicero has returned!” He announced as he balanced three plates on his hands and arms. He placed them haphazardly on the table. One plate was full of sweet rolls, one full of chopped apples, and one with some seared fish. “I hope the Listener is pleased!” 

“The Listener is,” she replied, taking a seat and spearing a fork in the fish. 

“Cicero hopes the Listener can forgive him,” he looked sincere, “Poor Cicero does not deserve the Listener’s forgiveness, but he begs for it anyway.” 

“Look, Cicero,” Lalailana started, “I-I don’t know. I don’t want to be mad at you but…” She trailed off. Cicero searched her down turned eyes for answers. “It will take time for me to trust you again.” 

“Cicero understands! Cicero is pleased that the Listener would accept his apologies,” he met her gaze with a hungry look in his eyes, “Perhaps the Keeper could offer the Listener his services.” 

Lalailana raised an eyebrow, “What would those be?” 

“Well, Cicero is good with his hands,” he couldn’t help looking at that long neck of hers and think of how nice it would look squeezed in his hands, “Cicero could oil the Listener like he does Mother.” 

Lalailana laughed at that, her smile returning making him feel warm again, “I don’t think I need preserving, but thanks.” She began to eat her meal.

After a few minutes Cicero spoke again, “Cicero would like to travel with the Listener on her contracts. He worries that she will be hurt and if something happens to the Listener...Cicero doesn’t know what he would do. Who would listen to our Mother?” 

“I don’t need help Cicero,” she sighed, “I’ve been on my own for years now, I think I can manage it a little longer.” 

“Cicero knows the Listener is skilled, or Mother wouldn’t have chosen her! But poor Cicero is still worried,” he put on a frown and his tone suddenly shifted to what Lalailana assumed was his voice before he became mad, “What if someone hurts the Listener or worse? It would drive me mad. I would have to hunt them down and...kill them.” 

Lalailana felt a strange arousal in this tone shift and sudden protectiveness, “Alright Cicero. I’ll think about it. For now though, I’m going to take my next contract alone.” 

“Cicero is happy that Listener will consider taking poor Cicero with her!” His voice was cheery again, “Cicero also would like to get out and stab, stab, stab!” 

“I’m sure he would,” she drank from her tankard of wine. 

They continued their meal together with small talk, mostly from Cicero. Lalailana felt herself relaxing around the fool like she once did before the whole dagger at her throat ordeal. She thinks she can forgive him, in time. She understood why he acted how he did after all. It was just a rather traumatizing experience. The feeling he gave her in that moment was why she always took out her contracts quickly and from a distance. She knew she was a murderer and what she did was immoral, but it didn’t mean she wanted them to suffer before their death. No, a quick arrow to the skull of an unsuspecting person was a sort of comfort in the face of death. Better they not know what was about to happen. 

“The Listener has stopped listening,” Cicero laughed. 

Lalailana was pulled from her morbid thoughts, “Sorry Cicero, my mind wandered elsewhere. I think I need to call it a night, least I drive myself mad.” 

“The Listener? Mad? You make Cicero laugh!” He did just that. 

“Never as mad as you,” she chuckled back, “Goodnight Cicero...and thank you for the apology.” 

“Cicero lives to serve!” He said as she walked out the room. 

Her sleep came restless to her. Faces of those she murdered passing through her dreams. Lalailana didn’t often dream, but when she did it was nightmares. She found it fitting for what she had done. Lalailana didn’t regret any of her kills though, there was no place for that in her line of work.


	3. Chapter 3

Lalailana had a bad feeling in her gut about this contract. She was in the city of Markarth, where there were few places to take cover unlike the cities surrounded by forests. Her target was a suspected forsworn sympathizer who was currently in the marketplace. She had stationed herself behind a building a level up from him. Lalailana would prefer to make her strike at night, but the bonus for this contract said to kill him in a public space. 

Many guards had passed this area since she stood there, not a good sign. She waited until the coast looked clear and drew her bow. With a deep breath she let the arrow loose and, like always, it landed its mark. The crowd below began to shriek and cry. Lalailana had planned to stay by the building until all the guards were down by the market before she tried to make an inconspicuous exit, but those plans went to hell when she heard a guard yell for her to stop right there. 

Shit. She had never been spotted before and she damn well wasn’t about to let herself be caught. Without much choice, she bolted. Running down the stairs while the guards rushed her and several shot at her with arrows. There was only one entrance and exit in the city that didn’t involve climbing the rocksides, and Lalailana wasn’t known for her upper body strength. She hated to admit it, but now would be a good time to have some backup. 

Lalailana sprinted as fast as her legs would take her, thanking Sithis she wore light armor. The guards were in the process of closing the gates, but she managed to slip through before they shut, narrowly avoiding being crushed by them. Unfortunately for her, if the opening was wide enough for her it was wide enough for an arrow. An arrow that lodged itself in her back. She staggered forward but managed to keep pushing through, the arrow deep enough she could almost feel it touch her spine. 

There were still a few guards chasing her on foot. She knew they would eventually give up once she reached a certain point outside of the city, but she was still far from that spot. Another arrow landed, hitting her leg and sending her tumbling to the ground. She let loose a string of curses from her lips and a silent prayer to Sithis. One guard had reached her, yelling for her to stop and yield. Without much choice, she faked giving up. Once the guard drug her to her feet, she whipped out her dagger and sliced his throat. Lalailana detested fighting guards, sympathetic with their cause to protect people. A sentiment she doubted any other member of the family would share. 

The guard hit the ground gurgling and holding his throat. You didn’t need much upper body strength if your blade was sharp. The other two guards dropped their bows and rushed her. Standing now, she was able to keep running. With each step the arrow in her leg tore at her flesh more. She could feel the blood pouring down her leg into her boots. Not knowing where else to run to protect herself from the onslaught of arrows, she made a dash for the nearest trees. 

One guard gave up once she made it, but the last one was still persistent. Perhaps the guard she killed was a close friend. She slid under a bush, hoping it covered all of her. The guard searched for what seemed like several minutes before turning back, her shrouded armor providing just enough camouflage to protect her. Lalailana waited a few more minutes before rising out of the bush. Muffling a cry, she pulled the arrows out of her leg and back. She wasn’t sure how that first one didn’t paralyze her. 

It would take a few days to make it back to the Sanctuary on foot, but in her current state it would take longer. She drank her only healing potion, which was weak and only managed to stop the bleeding but not heal the wounds. Lalailana knew a little healing magic, but she was too drained at the moment to focus on using it. She knew she needed a healer before infection set in. She limped her way to the nearest town, praying to Sithis again that she had enough coin on hand for a healer that she wasn’t even sure existed there. 

After asking the townspeople for help, she learned they didn’t have a healer on hand or even an alchemist that may have been able to make her another potion. Lalailana cursed herself for being too cocky, thinking she could manage this without a hitch. The pain was too much to continue, so she settled for resting in the town’s inn. It took all her coin to pay for a room and a meal. 

She was out early the next morning, her wounds sore enough that she knew they were getting infected. She didn’t have a change of clothes with her, so they were in contact with her dried blood. She still had a few more days worth of trek ahead of her and she just hoped she would make it home before a fever set in. 

… 

Lalailana stumbled in the door of Sanctuary. She had a cold sweat that started the previous night. Her wounds were festering now, raw from her tight armor rubbing against it. It would have been best if she had time to wash and dress them, but she knew it would take too long and she didn’t have the supplies. She could have stolen some, but then she risked being caught and having to run away from more guards who definitely would have locked her up and not given her treatment. 

Astrid looked up from her table at whatever was making all the ruckus. No one in her family walked so noisy, it was unbecoming of an assassin. Her eyes lit up in horror at the sight of her newest member. The Imperial’s face was red, she was limping, and her armor was coated in a layer of crusted blood. Lalailana tried to speak, but she was too tired to make a sound. She collapsed on the rocky floor, surprised she even made it home. 

Astrid called for help, having her husband lift her to her bed. Astrid, Babette, and Gabriella forced the men out so they could give her privacy as they stripped her of her ruined armor. In just her small clothes, they could see the extent of her wounds. Babette moved quickly to mix up some poultices and potions. Gabriella washed the wounds as Astrid cleaned the rest of her dirty body. It took an hour, but they had her injuries dressed. Now all they waited on was for her fever to drop. 

Lalailana stayed unconscious, mumbling and groaning in her sleep. Astrid stayed with her, she would be damned if she let one of her family members die on her watch. Word of the Imperial’s state spread quickly, eventually landing on Cicero’s ears. He quickly finished Mother’s oiling and made his way to her. 

Astrid was not keen on him being there, not trusting he wouldn’t do something to her in her sleep. The jester had already put a blade to her throat once and she didn’t think her being the alleged Listener would stop him from doing it again if he grew angry. Cicero was fearsome when he wanted to be, they all knew it. 

“Poor Cicero would never harm the Listener!” He defended himself, “Dear Night Mother would never want such fighting!” 

Astrid sighed, knowing that if he really wanted to be next to her she couldn’t do much to stop it. She also knew she needed to get back to her work, running the last chapter of the Brotherhood was no simple feat. “Fine but if you do anything, and I mean anything, to harm Lana I will gut you myself.” 

“Of course! Of course!” Cicero replied as she left the room. Cicero pulled a chair up next to Lalailana’s bed, watching her face make pained expressions. “Cicero told the Listener, warned the Listener. But the Listener wouldn’t listen,” he laughed but there was little humor in it, “Cicero would have protected the Listener. He would have made sure she wouldn’t be harmed.” He paused then continued speaking to her as if she were awake, “The Night Mother would not like this, no. Cicero should have done better. Cicero should have followed the Listener! Kept her like he keeps the Mother. He is the Keeper! He should keep!” He stayed with her for the rest of the day, only leaving her side to grab a sweet roll for dinner. Regret was taking him, a feeling he was not accustomed to. 

The next morning Lalailana’s fever broke. She started to stir awake, her whole body hurting. Cicero was the only one there and the first thing she saw when she turned her gaze from the ceiling with a groan. Cicero’s ears perked up at the sound, turning from his writing in his journal to face her. 

“The Listener is awake!” He jumped up and started to dance, “Cicero was worried!” 

“I’m sorry,” she said, her lips dry and cracked and her throat parched. 

“Would the Listener like some water? Something to eat? Cicero will get anything she needs!” He asked her. 

“Yes to both, please,” she answered. 

He quickly ran off to fetch the items. Lalailana was thankful for the jester and the rest of her family for taking care of her. She was foolish and made rookie mistakes on this last contract that she would be sure to never repeat again. Cicero returned quickly with a tankard of water, an apple, and a sweet roll. She couldn’t help but give a dry chuckle at the food choice, but she wasn’t going to complain. 

“Thank you Cicero,” she told him. 

“Cicero lives to serve!” He replied, “He will keep the Night Mother and the Listener.” 

“I guess I could use some keeping afterall,” she laughed, “Hate to admit that I should bring along someone with me.” 

“Cicero told the Listener,” he started, “Oh but Cicero would not scold the Listener! No, never!” 

“It’s okay Cicero. The Listener deserves it,” she bit into the apple with a crunch. 

“The Keeper should not do such a thing to the Listener,” he countered, “Our Mother would not wish it.” 

“I guess so,” Lalailana responded, starting to go to town on the sweet roll. Cicero just watched her until she spoke again, “Cicero, I would like you to accompany me on my next contract.” 

“Me? Poor Cicero? The Keeper out with the Listener on the hunt?” He smiled wide, “Oh Cicero would enjoy that!” He started dancing like a fool again. 

Astrid and Nazir visited with Lalailana now that she was awake, both scolding her for getting in such a condition. Nazir was pleased she at least got the job done, but kept her reward to pay for the supplies she needed to get better. She didn’t argue. Cicero tried to, but she stopped him. Astrid didn’t like how close the jester was getting to her Lana and Nazir found it downright disturbing. They kept it among themselves though, not wanting to offend Lalailana. They would warn her again in days that followed, when the fool wasn’t attached to her hip. 

It was a few weeks before Lalailana was completely healed and ready for her next contract. In that time Cicero spent most moments by her, helping redress her wounds, bringing her food, and keeping her company. Like usual he did most of the talking, but Lalailana didn’t mind. She wasn’t aware of it consciously yet, but she was growing very fond and attached to him. No one since her parents cared for her so tenderly and fully. She thought he was only doing it because she was the Listener, but part of her felt like he may have done it otherwise. 

As she said before, Lalailana took Cicero with her on her next contract. She was in her new Brotherhood armor that Arnbjorn had threatened to eat her if she ruined. Cicero told her he would never let that sheepdog eat her, not quite understanding it was an empty threat. Lalailana didn’t expect Cicero to make as much noise on the road as he did. When he was speaking to her or making jokes, he was humming and whistling tunes. Part of it was pleasant while another part was annoying to her. She didn’t realize how much she missed having company until he took care of her back home. Heck, she didn’t even realize she was lonely. 

All these emotional realizations also brought up another feeling. It had been months since Lalailana had companionship in the bedroom and it was really bothering her. Normally, before she joined Astrid and the rest of her family, she would find a man or woman to have a quick tumble with and never see again. She didn’t go for whores, usually just the wandering traveler or trader. The last one she slept with was a Khajitt that left her sore for days. She learned the hard way about their...unique phalluses. Her best rutting was with an argonian with an exceptionally hard member that left her walking funny. 

Reflecting on her sexual past left her with an awkward wetness between her legs as they continued to Dawnstar. She knew there was a carriage in Whiterun that could cut their travel time in half and they were almost there. Cicero kept up with his rambling until they boarded said carriage, his attention turning to the passing trees and animals. Lalailana gazed at the Imperial man as he focused so intently on things that passed them. She took a moment to appreciate his strangely handsome features and, for a fleeting second, thought of what he would look like naked and on top of her. It wasn’t until Cicero met her gaze with his honey eyes that she looked away from him. She was ashamed of the heat that rose in her core. He was nothing like her previous lovers, yet he was managing to arouse her. She wouldn’t confess it to him of course, not sure how he would react. If she could read minds, she would know that Cicero found her lovely and wanted to please her in ways beyond what he’s already done. 

Now that she had turned away, he could watch her the same way he did while she slept. Her hair was as dark as the void itself, pulled back and braided close to her head. She rarely had her hood down, so it was a treat for him to see it. Her eyes were large and a lovely shade of deep blue. It was rare for Imperials to have blue eyes, so he figured that her bloodline had some Nord in it somewhere. He appreciated her face, it was angular and sharp but not shrewd like many Imperial women he had met. Cicero’s gaze also landed on the curve of her breasts through her armor. Given how tight the leather clung to her, it left little to the imagination. He looked back at the road again, not wanting the Listener to see how much attention he placed on her and make her uncomfortable. No, he knew women did not like Cicero in such a way. Cicero had to pay for women’s attention before he became Keeper and by then he didn’t have the time for such base things. 

“Alright, here we are. I’ll be here for a few hours if you want a ride back,” The carriage driver announced to them. 

Lalailana gave him a thank you and some extra coin. They only needed a few minutes to do their job, but they would stay a bit longer so as to not look suspicious. Their target was a woman that owned a mine. She was known to be cruel and harsh, so there were many that wanted her out of the picture. Most of all was some competition in the market. 

“Cicero could sneak up and stab, stab, stab her,” He offered cheerfully. 

“That’s okay, we should use ranged attacks since she’s out in the open. I’m thinking I’ll hit her with my arrow, then we can jump on the roof of that big building there. Hide for a while until the guards give up looking then go inside the inn. Have some food then get back on the carriage,” she explained her plan. 

“Ah! The listener is smart!” He replied a little too loud for her comfort, “Of course she is, for the Mother picked her.” 

She shushed him, keeping her head low as she raised her bow. Waiting for the woman to turn her back on them, she let it fly. It hit its mark, Lalailana rarely missed what she was aiming for. She grabbed Cicero’s hand and dashed for the roof, both of them jumping together and sticking the landing. Lalailana was breathing hard, the adrenaline pulsing through her veins. Cicero was just staring at his hand, not believing that she had just touched him. It made him happy, like when he finished oiling their Mother. 

Everything went according to plan this time and they made it back home two days later.


	4. Chapter 4

Lalailana couldn’t take not having privacy anymore. She had some needs that she had to attend to, but couldn’t risk the embarrassment of anyone walking in on her in the shared quarters. Since there were no empty rooms now that Cicero and the Night Mother were here, she made her way to the bathing area. She thought that she could at least manage to take care of herself without drawing any suspicion. 

She drew the bath with water she heated on the fire pit, filling the basin fully. The bath had her signature lavender oil and nightshade, slightly bubbled with her soap. Her muscles relaxed of their tension as she slipped in the water, letting out a moan. For a moment she just took it all in, before her hands wandered across her body. 

Cicero was wandering the hall to find some sweet rolls when he heard a slight moan coming from the room nearest him. He could tell it was from his Listener and, worried she might be hurt or injured again, he snuck a peek in the door. Lalailana was faced away from the door like normal and was so preoccupied with her pleasure that she didn’t hear the door creak. Cicero watched as she palmed her breasts with one hand as the other was beneath the water, moving rapidly. It didn’t take long for the man in the jester to figure out what was happening. 

Cicero was unaware of her primal needs, assuming that she was beyond such things. She was the Listener after all, the closest thing to perfection in his eyes aside from the Night Mother and Sithis himself. He knew now that he was really a fool, forgetting that beyond her honorable title she was still a grown woman who seeked the pleasure of sexual release. 

Lalailana couldn’t stop another soft moan as she tilted her head back and neared her climax. Her breathing was labored and heavy, easily heard from Cicero’s position. He imagined it was him making the Listener come undone, his hands touching her. The lewd noises ended with her orgasm, Lalailana making a muffle cry. She bit her lip to keep it from a scream. Taking in her next few moments of high, she laid back even further in the tub. Cicero stayed watching his Listener until she began to stand up, his eyes taking in her figure. She was slim and petite, but had curves where it counted. Before she turned to grab her towel by the door, Cicero quickly and quietly ran out of view. Lalailana looked at the door curiously, having sworn she had shut it all the way but giving it no further thoughts. 

Her session in the bath would be enough to stifle her lust for now, but she would need a proper tumble soon. She thought about where to turn to for that. Veezara would be an interesting idea, although it was common for most Argonians to stick to only bedding their own race. If she were being honest with herself, Nazir would be her first choice. He seemed like he would know what to do, given his more advanced age. Not that he was old, just much older than her. Lalailana sighed, thinking getting involved with members she had no intention of marrying would just make things complicated. Her only other idea was to go into Falkreath and see who was available. 

Cicero couldn’t get the scene he had witnessed out of his head. The noises she made still echoed in his mind. He had an erection that wouldn’t go away, having retreated to his chambers so no one would see. Cicero wanted the Listener, but surely the Listener wouldn’t want Cicero. He turned to the Night Mother to speak about his thoughts, but decided it would be disgraceful to say such lewd things to her. Not that she would even speak back to him anyways. Not knowing what else to do, he made his way to his bed to take care of himself. 

Lalailana decided to speak to Cicero before leaving, knowing he would worry if she just disappeared without a word. She had grown used to him following her like a puppy, attached to her hip. In his flustered state, he had forgotten to close and lock his door. The listener waltzed in without much thought, knowing he was probably tending the Night Mother or writing in his journals. 

She was surprised to walk in on him in his bed, his trousers pulled to his knees. His sizable cock in his hand, pumping it furiously. Unlike Cicero, who could watch silently, Lalailana couldn’t help but make an audible gasp before turning away. Cicero nearly jumped out of his bed. His Listener had seen him in such a lewd position. She apologized and rushed out of the room, closing the door he had forgotten about. Cicero quickly pulled his jester’s trousers back up, embarrassed beyond belief. Lalailana made her way for the exit quickly, feeling equal parts mortified and aroused. She didn’t think he would be so big. The image was scarred into her mind’s eye. Thicker than most she’s had and long enough to be intimidating. Who would have thought the fool of hearts would be so well endowed. Not her, that’s who. 

Lalailana was in town before she knew it, looking around the gloomy place for men that looked even remotely interesting. Most were older and married. She had no intention to be a homewrecker today. The Listener found herself wandering around the lumber mill there, absentmindedly looking at the logs on the ground. 

“I can't believe we let provincials like you wander Skyrim,” A large Nord man commented from behind her. 

“My,” Lalailana started, “such a big word from a simple Nord.” 

“You looking to start trouble?” He asked her angrily. 

“Trouble?” She tilted her head and gave it a thought, “No. Not today.” 

“Well good. Best you move on,” He huffed. 

“What’s your name?” She asked, curious of the man who would dare be so rude to a woman he didn’t know. 

“Bolund, but if you’re looking for conversation you should speak to my brother. I’m not interested,” Bolund huffed. 

“Not interested huh?” She stalked toward him, “Strange considering you felt a need to speak with me while I wasn’t even looking at you. Surely something made you want my attention.” He was pleasant enough to look at, he would do. 

Bolund glance at the exposed flesh of her shoulders and cleavage, “Nothing other than letting you know you aren’t welcomed here. Unlike some people here, I’m a true Nord.” 

“Oh yes, and Skyrim belongs to the Nords,” She mocked, “Even though it really belonged to the elves first but they were slaughtered and their lands stolen by your ancestors, but go ahead. Please explain how it belongs to you.” 

She was getting under his skin, “I don’t like the way you talk woman.” 

Lalailana knew how to push buttons when she was looking for a rough fuck, “Oh really now? Well then, what are you going to do about it?” 

Bolund could feel his blood pressure rise while getting strangely aroused by the bold woman, “I don’t like fighting women, but that doesn’t mean I won’t.” 

“Fighting?” She tilted her head again and touched his arm, “Is that what you want to do with me?” For good measure, she fluttered her long, dark lashes. 

“What are you getting at?” He growled at her, not pushing her off. 

“Over there seems private,” she motioned her head to a spot behind the lumber mill where no one but him would bother going. It wasn’t exposed to the road or the rest of the town. 

Bolund felt his erection twitch, feeling a need to put this Imperial woman in her place. He roughly grabbed her shoulders and pulled her to the area she pointed out. Lalailana felt herself flood, craving a course touch. Bolund pushed her against the stone structure, manhandling her breasts through her tunic and pressing his erection against her thigh. She moaned, lifting up one leg to stroke his hip and pull him in closer. 

Encouraged, Bolund pressed her until it hurt. The slight pain made her moan and sent a shiver down his spine to his toes. Not able to resist it anymore, and still rather pissed off, he pulled her up to his waist and pulled her leggings off enough to expose her wet mound. He slipped his own pants down to his knees and pushed himself into her slick folds. Not caring for anything she was feeling, he bottomed out. Lalailana had no time to adjust to him as he began pounding into her with all his force. She felt herself tear up, the pain and discomfort bringing her so close to climax so quickly. She was a masochist afterall. 

Bolund found her tight, too tight. It was clear it had been a while since she last laid with a man. He was getting close to his release faster than what was normal for him. Lalailana was fighting back from her moans, trying not to give the asshole the pleasure. She was just using him, she did not care about stroking his ego. For some reason, when she looked at his face she was imagining Cicero’s. His jester’s hat having fallen off and his red locks framing his face. Bolund’s thrusts started getting erratic and the Imperial couldn’t take it anymore. Her walls closed in on him so tightly it forced him out, but he didn’t care as he was spilling out on the grass under his feet. Bolund kept her against the wall for a while longer, contemplating if he was going to force her to do more. She looked at him with a devilish grin. Oh how she loved getting what she wanted. He finally dropped her, barely giving her time to land on her feet. She pulled her leggings back up and adjusted her tunic. 

“I can’t believe a proud Nord would stoop so low as to fuck an Imperial bitch,” she teased. 

Bolund had finished lacing up his trousers, “It was to put you in your place, don’t read into it.” 

“Mhm,” she laughed, “If that’s what you need to tell yourself.” 

She strolled past him back toward the Sanctuary. He couldn’t help but watch the sway of her hips as she passed. It was confusing to Bolund why he did that, he hated Imperials. He never would figure out he was played.


	5. Chapter 5

Cicero waited on Lalailana’s return, worried about how she might react when she saw him. He had busied himself by preparing the Night Mother’s oil blends, but he had made enough to last a year. Now he was by the water, pacing a bit. She had been gone for a while now and he started worrying if guards had hurt her again. 

To his relief, she was there again. Walking into the common area with a happy look on her face. Cicero didn’t know what she did, assuming she probably killed someone because that’s what made him happy, but made his way toward her. 

“The Listener has returned!” He announced, doing a jig. 

“I have,” she smiled at him, “I take it the Keeper is done handling his business?” 

“Oh,” he stopped dancing and looked like he was blushing, “Cicero is sorry. The Listener should not have to witness Cicero’s disgraceful actions.” 

“Cicero,” she put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, “It’s okay, I swear. We all do it, just maybe remember to lock your door next time.” Cicero’s eyes lit up as she had touched him again, but since he never actually finished from earlier his erection was coming back. “So, what is Cicero doing with the rest of his day?” 

“Cicero has already tended to Mother,” he paused to think, “Cicero is not sure what else to do. Perhaps the Listener has something in mind?” He couldn’t help but hope she would involve him with her activities. 

“Listener could think of something,” she walked to get some food as Cicero followed close behind her. 

“Great, now you’re talking in third person too?” Arnbjorn commented as he was making his way to Astrid. 

“Only to Cicero,” she shrugged, “He rubs off on you.” Cicero giggled as he imagined rubbing on her. 

“He will not be rubbing on me,” he rumbled, “Watch yourself hamhock.” 

“Why is the dog warning the Listener? Is he upset with you? Should I kill him?” He questioned. 

“What? No!” Lalailana replied, “Everyone is just worried you may put a knife to my throat again.” 

“Oh,” Cicero’s voice was normal again, startling her. “Cicero would never harm the Listener.” 

The deep tone sent warmth straight to her core. Lalailana had hoped that a good rutt would stop that from happening, but it seemed to only make it worse. “I know Cicero,” she spoke, “I trust you again.” 

“Cicero is happy to serve the Listener,” the delight in his voice made her feel rather joyful, “Anyway the Listener needs her to.” 

That last bit definitely made her a bit weak in the knees. She could think of a few indecent things he could do for her. Lalailana felt herself blushing and did her best not to let Cicero see it. He could though, he was good at paying attention to her and every subtle change and movement she made. 

Finally at the table with food, she grabbed up two sweet rolls and handed on to Cicero, who laughed as he took it from her. He continued to follow her as she stopped by her chest and opened the lock. She shuffled around several items until she found what she was looking for, her old lute. It was smaller than the average one, which made it better for travel. She closed the chest, but not before Cicero caught a glimpse at an amulet she kept there but he had never seen her wear. It was Mara’s amulet. Cicero knew it was important to Nords, but couldn’t remember why. 

Lalailana continued to move, this time heading to Cicero’s room, “I’ve been feeling like doing this for a while and I figured you would appreciate it more than anyone else here. Especially more than Nazir. I hope he doesn’t hear,” she laughed. 

“Is the Listener going to play for Cicero?” He asked. 

“Yes,” she offered him a smile. 

“Cicero thought the Listener did not go to the Bard’s College,” he questioned. 

“I didn’t, but I still learned a few things,” she perched on the top of his table, “Any songs you like?” 

“Oh Cicero? Cicero likes them all!” He jumped a bit, eager to hear her play. For once, he gets to listen. 

“Alright then, here’s one I liked as a child. My parents would dance to it when bards would play,” Lalailana explained, “Often when they had too much to drink.” 

Cicero smiled as he waited for her to start. She strummed the strings, testing their tune before she played. It was rather upbeat as she started, the sound of a drinking song. Cicero started moving his feet to it, already enjoying the song. 

♪ O my sweet love, she waits for me, Through storm and shine, cross land or sea. ♪

Cicero was surprised to hear his Listener’s voice in such a way. It was beautiful, literal music to his ears. 

♪ I run to her and together we, Sway as we kiss, Sway as we kiss, Her graceful shape I heave on high, And in one hand I hold her nigh, Her waiting lips are never dry, Sway as we kiss, Sway as we kiss ♪

The music filled more than the room, traveling down to the common areas of the sanctuary. Nazir frowned, but admitted to himself that her voice was not so unpleasant. Astrid was speaking to her husband at the time, who took the opportunity to grab her by the waist. It had been a long time since they had embraced and danced in such a way, not since they were both much younger. Astrid would have stopped him, but he refused to let her go. She tried to avoid any public displays of affection as she didn’t want the other family members to think she played favorites, but Arnbjorn would not be denied this opportunity. 

Veezara, Gabriella, and Babette followed the sound to find Cicero dancing and Lalailana playing. Festus happened to be asleep at the time and didn’t wake from the music. 

♪ Come the morn she goes, The taste of her remains, And in my mind, I see us sway, Sway as we kiss, Sway as we kiss ♪

Cicero clapped and asked for another. Lalailana saw that she had gathered a bit of a crowd, suddenly feeling very self conscious. They encouraged her to continue. 

“Really?” She questioned. 

“It’s not every day that we get to have a bard entertain us,” Gabriella assured her with a smile. 

Lalailana changed her tune, this one a classic among Skyrim. 

♪Oh, there once was a hero named Ragnar the Red, Who came riding to Whiterun from ole Rorikstead  
And the braggart did swagger and brandish his blade, As he told of bold battles and gold he had made♪

...  
She continued to play several more songs and tales for them. Cicero danced to each one and Lalailana wasn’t sure where he got the energy from. She wished she had half his stamina. The others left once she stopped playing, leaving just her and Cicero there. 

Lalailana didn’t quite know what to do with herself. She knew it would be about time to head to bed but part of her really wanted to stay here with Cicero. He wasn’t exactly kicking her out either, just watching her. Waiting for what her next move was. They stayed staring at each other for what felt like hours, even though it was only a few minutes. 

“Cicero is curious why the Listener looks at him so,” Cicero finally broke the silence. 

Lalailana could feel herself flush, hot and cold at the same time, “I-,” she wasn’t sure what to say. Why was she still here? Her room was just a few moments away, it was late, and there was no reason for her to be there any longer. “I-,” Again she came up short. 

“Does the Listener wish to stay?” He tilted his head, “Listener may have Cicero’s bed. He can sleep elsewhere.” 

“No,” she replied quickly, “No need for you to give up your bed.” 

“Then what is it Listener wants?” He wasn’t irritated, just curious. 

“Listener doesn't know exactly what she wants,” she sighed. 

“Listener must want to not leave Cicero’s room,” The jester said so casually. 

“That’s probably true,” she put down the lute she didn’t know she was still clutching. 

“What does Listener want to do in poor Cicero’s room? That she can not do elsewhere?” His head tilted enough that his hat slid, enough to show some of his auburn locks. 

“I-,” she found herself stuttering and lost for what words she was looking for. The burning between her legs told her exactly what she wanted, even though she thought she found relief from the Nord in town. 

Cicero took a more direct approach, walking toward her as he spoke. “Is there something here that the Listener can only get here?” 

He was right in front of her now, a slight smile on his face. Cicero’s current cat-like expression just made her abdomen tighten more. Lalailana wanted to deny what she knew she wanted, nay, what she needed. Her hand reached out and brushed his cheek. He felt so warm to the touch. She didn’t know if she was just imaging the expression of pleasure on his face, or if he was truly reacting that way toward her. Cicero left her little time to question, his hands snapping to her hips. She gasped and he quickly pulled away thinking he did something wrong. 

“Cicero is sorry,” he started to move backwards, but Lalailana moved her legs out and locked him in place. 

His eyes grew wide as she tightened her legs around him, pulling him closer toward her, “Cicero said he would take care of the Listener?” She leaned into him so that her lips were next to his ears, “Serve the Listener. Anyway she needs?” 

“Ci-,” his voice cracked, “Cicero did. Cicero lives to serve,” he was still keeping his hands to himself, not wanting to do anything his Listener didn’t ask him to. 

“Your Listener needs you,” she angled her head so that her breath brushed down his ear and neck. She could see him stiffen and hear a muffled whine. She waited a moment but he didn’t speak. “Keeper?” 

“What does the Listener need of Cicero?” His voice between that surprisingly deep tone and his normal humorous one. 

“Listener needs the Keeper to...tend to her,” she brought her hand up to his face again and stroked him from the top of his head down to his jawline. She could feel as he clenched and unclenched his jaw. 

“How should Cicero do that?” He asked in a near whisper. 

“The Listener would like her Keeper to touch her,” his hands found her waist, “To please her,” he groaned softly, “and to take her.” 

Something snapped in Cicero’s head. He had been mad for a long time, but in this moment he felt more like his old self than ever. It was a sense of clarity he hadn’t had in years. As if all the madness had melted away, he knew what to do. Cicero pulled her to the edge of the table until she had all but toppled him over. One hand rushed up her back and tangled in her hair, pulling the strings that had kept it up and making her hair tumble down her back. His other hand had her tight and flush against his chest, his brute strength preventing her from moving. Lalailana didn’t realize just how strong he was until now, feeling her skin bruise under his fingers. 

Cicero’s lips found hers, his tongue exploring her mouth as she moaned into him. Her body arched into his, desperate for friction. He delivered, his hand at her head moving to her thigh and digging in. Lalailana moaned again, louder this time. She knew her small clothes were soaked at this point. Cicero urged her legs to squeeze him tighter. His lips danced on hers until she felt like putty beneath him. 

“Listener should take her clothes off,” Cicero said in his usual voice, but the tone was more demanding than she had heard from him before. 

“Listener shall listen,” she laughed, pulling her tunic up and her leggings down. 

Cicero just watched her as she undressed, his erection already leaking and painful. She was in just her small clothes now, but he would have none of that, “Cicero meant all her clothes.” 

Lalailana blushed as she slipped them off, completely exposed and vulnerable to him. Cicero grinned as he looked at the Listener, his Listener. He brought himself to his knees, pulling her by the hips to bring her wet sex to his face. Before she could gather her thoughts to say anything, he dove into her. Cicero’s tongue lapped at each and every fold and crevice. No where was left untouched. He worshipped her, every taste and sound. His hands ran up her legs and thighs, forcing her legs to stay spread and out of his way as he plunged himself deeper in her. 

Lalailana threw her head back, filling the room and the stone halls with her lewd music. One hand kept her braced to the tabletop while the other had taken the place of Cicero’s hat, fingers tangled up in his red hair. Her nails dug into his scalp, the pain only turning him on more. Cicero was sadistic, so he could appreciate pain. Lalailana felt herself tighten and convulse, her orgasm exploding into his mouth. Cicero groaned as he ate it, savoring every bittersweet drop. 

He stood up, Lalailana breathing heavy and clinging onto him to stay upright. Cicero laughed maniacally, before wrapping his arms around her and pulling her off the table. She gasped again as the cool cave air hit her soaking sex, sending shivers down to her toes. Cicero brought them to his bed, which was lined with fur pelts. Much softer than the wooden table. He laid her down on her back gently, watching as her breath steadied back to normalcy. She was beautiful to him, almost perfect. 

“Where did you learn to do that?” Lalailana managed to laugh. 

“Cicero knows many ways to serve,” he replied, “Would Listener like more?” 

“Listener would, dear Keeper,” she cooed. 

Cicero removed his jester’s clothing and left them in a pile on the floor. Lalailana appreciated his naked form, he wasn’t a man of great stature but he had size were it mattered. His muscles were sinewy with faint scars over different parts of his torso. A reminder of the life he lived before being Keeper. Lalailana felt herself getting drunk off of him.

Cicero brought himself over her, his erection twitching on her leg. He was waiting, waiting for permission. There was a time in his life where he didn’t wait, just took what he wanted. The Listener demanded respect though, not to be savaged but to be loved. The Keep would do just that, but only after being told to. 

“I want you,” his Listener breathed, “Need you.” 

She pawed at his back, urging him to move closer to her. He gave her what she wanted, his body weight pressed her against the pelts and further into the bed. Lalailana brought a hand to his member and stroked it, causing him to buck at her gentle touch. She giggled a bit, before stroking him harder. It was clear from his face he enjoyed it, but he put a hand on hers to stop it. 

“Cicero is keeping the Listener,” his voice hoarse. 

She shuddered at the tone, a low grumble. He barely sounded like a man and more like an animal. The voice of a killer who enjoyed his work and artistry. Lalailana mewled as his head stroked the folds of her entrance, he was teasing her. Painfully slow, he inched himself into her inviting warmth. Lalailana tried to press herself down on him to make him hilt, but his hands moved to her hips and trapped them, pinned them down so she couldn’t even wiggle. 

“Cicero,” she sighed, loving and hating this at the same time. 

“The Listener calls for poor Cicero?” He questioned. 

“Please,” she begged, “I need-I need,” she groaned as she fought against the powerful hands holding her down. 

“What does this Listener need of her Keeper?” His voice was low again and oh how it did things to her. 

“You!” She groaned and raked her hands down his back, “I need you! Please. Please dear Cicero,” she pleaded. 

He obliged her now, bottoming himself out in one thrust that sent sparks to her vision. Her eyes shut tight and she moaned his name along with some prayers to Sithis. Cicero stayed there, hilted and enjoying the sensations of her walls pulsing him. It was like her body wanted to milk him of every drop of seed he had. She was eager. 

“Cicero is yours, Listener,” he whispered to her with a soft laugh. Not crazy like his usual ones. 

“My Keeper,” she ran a hand over his cheek as she looked in his bright eyes, “Dear, sweet Cicero.” 

He slid all the way out and pushed himself in again, Lalailana arching to make him hit that sweet spot inside of her. Her jaw was slack as he repeated the motion, a bit quicker this time. Cicero was studying her face, commiting each pleasured expression to memory. He knew this may be the only time his Listener would let him serve her in such a way, so he didn’t want to forget a second of it. 

Lalailana threw her head back as he began to pump into her. He stretched her well, knowing how to roll his hips to make the most of his girth. It wouldn’t be long until he had her unraveling for him again. 

“The Listener is pretty when she…” he took a moment to find the words, “sings for Cicero.” 

“Cicero knows how to make the Listener feel like singing,” Lalailana replied. 

She was so close to the edge now. Cicero changed the position, lifting her legs and rear in a way to tilt her up and drive his cock deeper toward her cervix. That was all it took to push her over again, her vagina tightening almost painfully on him. Cicero let out a strained moan at the sensation, fighting hard not to just spill then and there. Lalailana’s hands clawed at his bare chest, leaving scratches and breaking skin as she came. The slight pain drove him deeper into madness. He felt his hold on the little bit of sanity he had left slipping. It was gone once she moaned his name, soft and needy. 

Lalailana’s eyes snapped open wide as she found herself being flipped over on her stomach, “Cicero?” She questioned. 

The jester didn’t reply. She opened her mouth to speak again, but shut it sharply at the sudden slamming of her cock into her overstimulated sex. Lalailana scrunched the pelts under her fingers to try and steady herself as the Imperial man relentlessly thrusted into her. It was thrilling, sending sparks all over her body. She felt like she was on fire, but she still worried that he didn’t answer her. 

“Ci-Cic-Cicero?” She stuttered between thrusts. Still no reply, only even harder pounding. He was about to force another orgasm and she didn’t know if she could handle it. “Cicero!” 

The small shout snapped the Fool back in control, looking down at the woman before him. His hands were on her so tight that he had drawn some blood. From what he could see of her face, which was tilted, it was red and she had drool leaking on his pillow. Cicero took a moment to figure out what he had been doing, pulling out of her. 

“Cicero is sorry,” he couldn’t tear his eyes from the small droplets of blood forming on her hips, “Cicero has hurt the Listener.” 

“What?” Lalailana contorted herself to see of what he referred to, “That? No Cicero,” she arched her back so that her rear pressed into him, “I liked it. The Listener likes pain.” 

Cicero’s eyebrows rose to the top of his head, “Listener...wants Cicero to hurt her?” 

“Just a little,” she admitted, suddenly feeling very dirty. “Please,” she wiggled her ass against his erection, “Hurt me a little more.”

Cicero took in her words, an idea gathering in his mind. He was worried he would lose himself in her again, but he couldn’t deny her. She watched curiously as he grabbed a bottle of the oils he had mixed too many of. He poured a generous amount on his erection, coating each and every square inch thickly. Lalailana wasn’t sure why he needed to do that until he poured some on her exposed asshole. 

She gulped. There were times that she had ventured there, explored with a finger or two, but she had never taken a man there before. Cicero massaged the oil into her skin, then poured on more that he worked into her puckered hole. Any doubts he had about this disappeared at the sound of pleasure she made as his finger slipped inside her. The stretching of her tight hole was exactly the kind of pain she was looking for. The discomfort giving away to pleasure. 

“Please, Cicero,” she began to beg again, “Please, please, please.” 

Her pleas were better than anything Cicero has ever heard. He dared to think that her voice was better than their Night Mother’s. He needed to make her keep talking, to keep him focused and in this world. Cicero feared slipping into the madness for the first time in many years. 

“Cicero!” She cried, pushing back so that her asshole pressed against the head of his erection, “Please.” 

“What is it the Listener wants?” He teased. TEASED. Cicero, teasing. 

“I want you,” she replied with haste. 

“Cicero wants the Listener,” he rubbed the tip on her. 

“Then take me!” Lalailana felt herself desperate for the friction. 

Cicero wanted to ask her something else, but couldn’t muster the strength to do it. He wanted to ask her to be his, and his alone. That was selfish, he thought. The Listener was too good for poor Cicero. Cicero should just be happy she lets him even look at her. 

He inched himself in slowly. There was much resistance from her body, but after the first half of himself was in everything relaxed and she opened up fully. Lalailana didn’t wait for him to start moving as she immediately rocked herself back and forth. Cicero let her take control for now, running his hands everywhere he could. Over her back, on her ass, down her legs, and up her sides. She was mewling for him, the sounds running together and not stopping. Ironically, Lalailana looked and sounded like the crazy one. 

Cicero laughed at her, slipping two fingers into her folds and curling them. She gasped loudly at the sensation of being so full, so deliciously full. For a moment she thought she might rip in half as Cicero took control and began to thrust. His legs slammed into hers with each push forward, crude wet sounds filling the spaces between her desperate moans and pleas. She was still begging for him. Lalailana didn’t like to beg, but here with Cicero it was all she could manage to do. Everything with him felt different than with her past lovers. 

“Cierco is close,” he told the Listener, “Cicero can’t-” he cut himself off with a groan as she arched her hips more. “Where-”

“Inside,” she cut him off, “Inside me! I want to feel-” He erupted into her, the hot fluids making her reach her last orgasm. 

Cicero let himself be washed over with the intense emotions of his climax, then pulled himself out. Lalailana let her body fall back to the bed, his semen dripping from her ass down her pulsating sex and onto the pelts. Cicero had claimed her in his own mind. He would not want her turning to anyone else for this, but neither would he stop her. The Keep should not control the Listener. Lalailana’s breath was finally steadying as she flipped on her back and opened her arms toward him. Cicero hesitated, but moved to rest himself on her breasts. 

“Thank you Cicero,” she placed a soft kiss on his forehead, “By Sithis, that was the best I’ve had.” 

He smiled at that, letting himself drift off to a peaceful slumber. He dreamt of a pleasant future for once, not of the faces he’s killed. A future where he could Keep his Listener every day and she would let him. Poor Cicero wanted that more than he even wanted to hear the Mother’s voice.


	6. Chapter 6

The Emperor was dead, slain by the hand of the new leader of the Brotherhood. Lalailana had brought the Brotherhood back from the brink, now an organization that was feared again. Astrid and her husband were gone, along with a few other members of the previous sanctuary. It was a fact that brought a deep sadness to Lalailana, even though it was Astrid who brought it down on them and betrayed her. The Listener was hurt by her actions, having nearly died at the trap Astrid led her into, but she didn’t want her dead for it. 

Lalailana walked the halls of the Dawnstar Sanctuary, her hands tracing the stone walls. She had just spoken with the Night Mother, who had delivered her several contracts that she would spread among the new Initiates. She wrote them down for Nazir, who would handle the actual distribution. Babette was busy mixing new potions and poisons. Nazir was speaking with their newest recruit. Cicero was there somewhere, although she wasn’t sure where that was. 

She made her way to her master bedroom. Lalailana had allowed herself that luxury since she was the one who dealt with all the pressures that came with leading the Brotherhood. She walked toward the chest in her room, there was something it held that had been weighing heavily on her mind and heart. 

Cicero’s relationship with her had been known now, although it was never defined. Since that first night together, she had only shared a bed with him. At first it was awkward for her, as she had no plans to settle. Her life wasn’t meant for such pleasantries. After a couple months, she had started spending more nights in Cicero’s bed with him than alone in her own. Lalailana did well to keep their discretions private at first, but eventually the whole family knew. None of them liked it and several were down disgusted, but now no one spoke of it. No one dared to anger her, for she was their Listener and their Mistress. Bringing her wrath would equate to bringing the Night Mother’s in the void. Also, they were wary of her bedfellow. Cicero was, and still is, mad. He had proven just how crazy and deadly he was when he attacked Astrid, Veezara, and Arnbjorn. Lalailana was ordered to kill him after that but when she saw him on the ground bleeding out she couldn’t bring herself to do it. It was at that very moment she knew she loved him. Everything logically was telling her to strike and end him. Put him down. He hadn’t even made an effort to defend himself. Cicero had resigned himself to her decision, although part of her suspected if she did move to kill him he would have fought back. 

Lalailana had felt nothing but fear when she finally made her way through all the traps and ghosts that protected the halls. Fear not for herself, but for him. She had never feared for another’s life before. He had pleaded with her not to kill him, but he didn’t need to. She had surprised him when instead of bringing a blade to him, her hands held nothing but a healing spell. The Listener had saved him, stopped his bleeding and sealed his wounds. Afterwards, she gave him a gentle, sweet kiss then stood to leave. Cicero promised to pretend to be dead until she came back for him there. 

When she returned, Nazir tried to kill him. Lalailana had a blade at his throat quicker than Cicero would have even been able to manage. She would not have anyone hurting her Keeper. Nazir and Babette eventually came to terms with the Jester, since neither of them wanted his job as Keeper. Lalailana had moved Cicero into her bedroom, but made no clarification to their relationship. Cicero didn’t ask, fearing rejection. 

Lalailana changed from her tunic and leggings into a fur coat. It was a black leather, lined with the fur from red fox pelts. It was the only piece of fine clothing she owned and she was only wearing it for show. It was part of her plan for the night and she couldn’t help but start to feel anxious. 

Cicero finally made an appearance as she was sitting at their small table, reading over expense reports. He hummed as he strolled over to her. He liked her outfit and the way her hair was raised on top of her head in a loose braided bun. It showed off her long neck, all that vulnerable skin available to him. It would be so easy to slip a blade against it. 

“Cicero,” Lalailana started, “I...have something for you.” 

“The Listener? For Cicero?” He jumped and clacked his heels. 

She laughed, “You don’t even know if you’ll like it.” 

“Cicero will like anything the Listener deems him worthy to have,” his gloved hand stroked her cheek. 

“Well, I’m not sure how you’ll feel about this,” she hesitantly replied. 

Cicero tilted his head in confusion, seeing how she nervously chewed her bottom lip. She extended a hand to him, then led him to the bed. Lalailana pressed him to sit his back against the headboard while she straddled his lap. With her legs on either side of him, he now noticed that she wasn’t wearing anything under the coat. 

“Cicero is liking this,” he brought his hands to her inner thighs, making her moan. 

“That’s not the gift,” a blush rose across her face. Cicero lifted a brow, genuinely confused. What else could she mean to give him like this? “I-I know we’ve been keeping each other’s company for a while now,” she started, “It’s been nice.” Cicero felt a lump in his throat, she was ending it. “I think though, that it’s time for some clarity. I-,” she took a deep breath, “I’m not good at this stuff.” Lalailana began to undo the buttons of her coat, “I want you to know that I care for you Cicero. More than just your role as Keeper and more than for your abilities in pleasuring me.” Cicero could make out now that she was wearing at least one thing under there. “I don’t know how else to say this but…” it was exposed now, “I love you.” 

Cicero took in her words and the sight of the amulet on her chest. He had taken the time a while back to rediscover what it meant after he had seen it among her things long before now. Mara’s amulet. Neither of them were Nords, but they both knew what it meant. She was offering herself to him, forever. To be bound to him in this life. 

“Lala wants Cicero?” He hadn’t used that nickname since she began the Listener. 

“Yes,” she finally made herself meet his gaze. She was so nervous for his response. 

“Lalailana,” it was the first time he ever said her full name correctly. Cicero moved himself forward and pulled her into him. “Lalailana,” his voice deep as he repeated himself, “I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
